


Even Beautiful Things

by deusreks



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deusreks/pseuds/deusreks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I don’t think people are supposed to be this excited about making flower arrangements. Where did he even come from?” Nishiki says once another bout of random foreign words cuts through soft chattering of people and ambient music of Anteiku.</p>
  <p>  <i>Dolce. Fantastique. Magnifique. Schön.</i></p>
  <p>“It’s a welcome change. This neighbourhood is very quiet,” Kaneki says. </p>
</blockquote> <p>Or, how it started with a flower and ended with much, much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Beautiful Things

**(I)**

A flower shop springs from the snow overnight, fresh greenery standing defiant against harsh winter. Kaneki Ken doesn’t think it possible but he stands in front of its glass windows and vibrant array of flower arrangements. He blinks the cold out of his eyes and takes a curious step towards the entrance when he’s startled by a string of sentences in foreign language. He gives up entering and hurries to the building next to it, where he works part-time and is beyond being late.

It’s 7:34am when Kaneki Ken enters Anteiku, a café, and spots its owner, Nishiki Nishio, by the coffee machine. He’s taken his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose. Anteiku’s already brimming with people, young and old alike, who are in for their first morning fix of coffee.

“ _Why_ does he scream?” Nishiki sighs as soon as Kaneki approaches him.

Kaneki briefly chuckles. It’s not unusual to see Nishiki mussed and peeved. But. It _is_ unusual to see him not know what to do about it.

“I don’t think people are supposed to be this excited about making flower arrangements. Where did he even come from?” Nishiki says once another bout of random foreign words cuts through soft chattering of people and ambient music of Anteiku.

 _Dolce. Fantastique. Magnifique._ _Schön._

“It’s a welcome change. This neighbourhood is very quiet,” Kaneki says.

“I picked this neighbourhood _because_ it was quiet.”

Kaneki ties an apron around his waist and fixes his tie while Nishiki eyes the wall Anteiku shares with the flower shop with scorn.

“What’s wrong with being cheerful?” Kaneki says, knowing he’s only adding fuel to the fire. But as long as Nishiki directs his contempt elsewhere, he will forget about Kaneki’s occasional, negligible tardiness.

“Oh, he _can_ be cheerful. Elsewhere,” Nishiki says with a polite smile as he serves a customer. Kaneki can tell it takes a toll on him to smile when his face is pulled tight in a frown.

“You’re not being very _dolce_ ,” Kaneki teases, cringing inwardly at his own poor accent.

“I will fire your ass and sleep soundly tonight, Kaneki,” Nishiki says once the customer is gone. He sighs again and adds, “Hinami’s late.”

Fueguchi Hinami walks into Anteiku five minutes later with a pearly-toothed smile and a pink chrysanthemum adorning her dark hair. She is the brightest thing in the room in her fluttery white skirt.

Nishiki crosses his arms and waits for her to come to him. She does so fearlessly.

“I know what you’re going to say, boss. But I come with information,” Hinami says and leans over the counter. “His name is Tsukiyama Shuu,” she says and touches the flower in her hair. “He gave me this flower for free. He said it means ‘ _cheerful_ ’.”

“That was a perfect chance to tell him to be quiet,” Nishiki doesn’t cease to complain.

“But he’s nice. And handsome,” Hinami’s reasoning only deepens Nishiki’s frown.

“Why did you even go inside?” Nishiki asks.

“I was curious. He’s loud.”

“Yes, that needs to be dealt with.”

“You should go. You’re the boss,” Kaneki joins in, smiling because Hinami is smiling so it’s hard not to return the favor.

“Sure, send the friendliest guy in the building to make peace.”

A brief period of silence passes between the three of them. Then, Hinami and Nishiki turn to Kaneki in an eerie unison, their expressions grave and telling. Kaneki sighs, unties his apron.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

 

 

With a paper cup of coffee in one hand, Kaneki enters the flower shop. Outside, it’s red ears, chapped lips and involuntary shivering, but inside it’s spring in full bloom, first sunshine after months of fog and warmth that seeps into one’s bones and stays. An elderly woman and a young child pass him by on their way out, each with a small bouquet in their hands.

With a knot in his throat, because Kaneki doesn’t confront people, he approaches the man at the counter. It’s not really a counter, he notices upon closer inspection, more like an antique table, smears with dirt and grass, that happens to hold the cash register.

Tsukiyama Shuu, as Hinami has informed, sits at the table with his chin resting in the palm of his hand. His fringe covers one of his eyes, the other is keen, dark and on Kaneki.

Kaneki glances behind to check whether it’s truly winter outside because Tsukiyama is in a short-sleeved black shirt as if he’s refusing to acknowledge its very existence.  Kaneki blinks the swirl of confusion away and sets the cup of coffee in front of Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama doesn’t spare it a brief look.

“Good morning,” Tsukiyama flashes a smile that’s either genuine or good at pretending it is. “Will you try to bribe me into silence with that coffee?”

“It’s for the flower you gave my co-worker,” Kaneki says, past his earlier nervousness.

“It was a gift for welcoming me into the neighbourhood.”

“In that case, so is this.”

Tsukiyama gives a brief nod and pulls the cup towards himself. He hugs it with both his palms, putting his long fingers and neat nails in first picture. His hands don’t look like they’ve been touching flowers, let alone arranging them. Kaneki forgets what he’s here for.

“I presume it’s your boss who’s been banging on my wall moments ago,” Tsukiyama says and takes a sip of his coffee. Kaneki remembers.

“Yes. He likes his quiet.”

“Yet he runs a café,” Tsukiyama smiles, his lips touching the rim of the cup.

Kaneki returns the smile. “He keeps it quiet for the most part.” He scratches the side of his face, feeling the dry skin there, and looks around the shop in search for his next words.

“I’ll try my best for him too, then,” Tsukiyama says. “Sometimes I forget I’m not the only person in the world.”

Kaneki doubts that but Tsukiyama’s voice is mellow and friendly and Kaneki can’t resist relaxing into the conversation.  

“This place was vacant yesterday. Why open a flower shop here?” Kaneki inquires.

“I go where I’m needed,” Tsukiyama offers a simple reply and a humble gesture of his hand.

Kaneki raises an eyebrow. “A flower shop is needed in the winter?”

Tsukiyama says, “I didn’t catch your name.” He’s looked Kaneki up and down twice but his expression gave nothing away.

“Kaneki Ken.”

“Tell you what, Kaneki Ken” Tsukiyama says and pushes himself up. Only then can Kaneki see how tall and lean he is. He walks around the shop, touching a flower here and there, until he settles for a trumpet-shaped flower; its petals are intense blue and Kaneki doesn’t know its name.

Kaneki’s not often surrounded by people who wear their height as gracefully as Tsukiyama does. Tsukiyama comes closer, smiling as if satisfied with his choice. His movements are gentle and attentive as he reaches out to tuck the flower into Kaneki’s hair.

“Come ask me tomorrow,” Tsukiyama says and pats the flower in Kaneki’s hair before he takes a step back.

Kaneki swallows, alarmed that it hasn’t crossed his mind to shield himself from sudden breach in his personal space. He says, “With another cup of coffee as payment?”

“If you so wish.”

Kaneki leaves Tsukiyama’s flower shop wondering if Hinami was so easy to charm too.

He returns to Anteiku with a flower in his hair.

“Not a word,” he tells Nishiki who’s already begun snickering behind the counter. He’s surely noticed that Tsukiyama Shuu has ceased to be loud.

 

 

Kaneki takes the flower out of his hair and puts it on his nightstand. He takes a long, hot shower and once in his bed, he sets five alarms, evenly spaced; three didn’t do much for him that morning. He should’ve known better. Mid-January doesn’t get easier through the passage of time.

He prepares for another sleepless night, ridden by nightmares and endless tossing and turning. Before he closes his eyes, he swears he sees the flower on the nightstand glow.

He falls asleep before he can discern dream from reality.

 

 

 

**(II)**

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Any other day Kaneki would’ve thought the same, but he’s slept so well that he woke with the first ring of his alarm clock and came to work early enough to grab the promised cup of coffee for Tsukiyama without a painful crick in his neck or perpetual drowsiness clouding his mind.

“You owe me an answer,” Kaneki says and sets the cup on the table. Tsukiyama is wearing a black turtleneck, sleeves rolled up, as he arranges flowers in a neat bouquet of whites and reds.

“ _Oui_.”

Kaneki waits, shuffles his feet, but Tsukiyama gives his undivided attention to the bouquet and remains silent beyond limits of Kaneki’s patience.

“Well?” Kaneki urges.

“That’s the answer,” Tsukiyama says as if he’s been waiting to. “ _Yes_.”

None of the ceiling lights are on yet light reaches every corner of the shop, like walls and windows themselves are emitting sunshine.

“…I forgot the question,” Kaneki mutters.

“Then there’s that,” Tsukiyama chuckles. “You’ll be late for work.”

Kaneki, dumbfounded and suddenly sweaty-palmed, turns to leave.

“You look better today,” Tsukiyama says, stops Kaneki in his tracks.

“Did I look bad yesterday?”

Tsukiyama’s finished with the bouquet and he sets it aside with the rest of them. Kaneki doesn’t question how Tsukiyama’s gathered so many customers in the span of two days.

“No, certainly not. But you looked like you haven’t slept for days.”

“I slept last night.”

“I’m glad.”

Kaneki watches Tsukiyama as he takes the same flower and puts it in Kaneki’s hair again.

“Now you’re just swindling me for free morning coffee,” Kaneki says.

“Maybe,” Tsukiyama offers with a smile. “You’re oddly charming to talk to.”

Kaneki blinks at him.

“Kaneki-kun,” Tsukiyama waves a hand in front of Kaneki’s face. “Now you’ll really be late for work.”

 

 

“I know that look,” Nishiki says the moment Kaneki walks in.

“What look?”

“That one,” Nishiki pokes him in the forehead. “The last time I’ve seen it was when you were late for the afternoon shift because you were at a book signing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Charmed by the flower man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kaneki sees a pile of mugs in the sink and gets to them, anything to busy his hands. Nishiki comes up to him and clasps his shoulders.

“Are you doing alright? You know you can take a few days off if you need to.”

Kaneki musters a smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Okay,” Nishiki squeezes his shoulder to drive the point home. “Okay.”

 

 

 

**(III)**

“Did you know that coffee grounds can help flowers grow healthier?”

“ _Mhm_ ,” Tsukiyama hums. He’s absentmindedly stroking his chin, eyes fixed on the flower arrangement he’s been doing and re-doing since Kaneki’s walked in five minutes ago. “Did you discover a dormant interest in gardening?”

“I was just curious,” Kaneki says. He’s developed a habit of coming over to Tsukiyama during his 15-minute breaks. During this time, Kaneki learns that Tsukiyama is rarely alone in the shop; people often come and go, many return more than once and even more gift Tsukiyama with respect and admiration for his craft. He learns that Tsukiyama’s hands never get soiled from touching dirt or trimming flowers. He learns that Tsukiyama’s frown is so subtle that he can’t see it unless he’s sitting close and pretending to read a book.

Kaneki’s basking in silence and shop’s inner sunlight when Tsukiyama finishes a bouquet with a breathy “ _Perfect_.”

Kaneki sets his book down. “Is there a meaning to the flowers you choose?”

“ _Bien sûr_ ,” Tsukiyama says and turns the arrangement to Kaneki. “There are many ways to tell a story to those willing to listen. This is one of them.”

“You are being deep without actually revealing anything.”

“My apologies. Old habits.” Tsukiyama runs his fingers through his hair and, despite the momentary mess on his head, every strand returns to its place as if nothing has happened. Tsukiyama doesn’t sweat, yet he glistens and Kaneki cannot look away. Tsukiyama notices, and smiles. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Kaneki says and tears his gaze away.

Tsukiyama faces Kaneki and says, “You’re one of the few who sticks around. Most people get what they came here for, even if they didn’t know they wanted it, and only come back when they need more. I don’t mind, it’s my duty, but having company feels nice.”

Kaneki bites his lip because what Tsukiyama’s saying is simple yet he cannot comprehend it. He says, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“That’s alright. I like that about you. You’re very honest,” Tsukiyama says. He touches one rosy petal and smiles like he doesn’t mean to but can’t help it. “Your blush is, at least.”

Kaneki hides his face in his hands.

 

 

 

**(IV)**

Kaneki proposes Tsukiyama should make flower arrangements for Anteiku. Nishiki scoffs at the suggestion but Hinami takes Kaneki’s side. Nishiki accedes.

Tsukiyama is quick to come to Anteiku. It helps him make a perfect flower arrangement, if he knows to whom, or where, it goes to – or so he says.

Nishiki frowns the moment his eyes land on Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama, undeterred by silent hostility, approaches him and, much to Kaneki’s surprise offers him a white jasmine.

“We had a bad start and for that, I apologize,” Tsukiyama says.

“It’s—fine.”

Tsukiyama smiles to him like he would to a customer. “That’s great.”

Tsukiyama then does what makes Hinami grab Kaneki’s wrist and pull him back as if to protect him from an oncoming explosion – he puts the jasmine in Nishiki’s hair, tucks it in with care. Nishiki, eyes-wide and wild with surprise, doesn’t move.

“ _Kaneki_ ,” Hinami whispers to him, bewildered. “Do you see what I see?”

“Not sure. Pinch me.” He yelps when she does.

Nishiki doesn’t attempt to remove the flower from his hair.  

Tsukiyama’s presence surrounds the café and among the browns and whites, he moves like a dream; he touches every table, every chair, every wall and his expression communicates understanding as if those pieces of furniture are telling him a story he’s been yearning to hear.

Kaneki works the coffee machine but his eyes run to Tsukiyama, as if looking at him is a reflex, like blinking.

“You’re blushing,” Nishiki tells him, devious smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m not.”

“What’s the matter, Kaneki? You’re not being very _dolce_.”

“You couldn’t wait to say that, could you?”

“I’ve kept it bottled up for days.”

Tsukiyama leaves in a rush, without a word, as if he must get to work before the spell is broken and the dream is over.

 

 

On barely a wink of sleep, Kaneki stumbles into Anteiku the next morning. His olfactory sense is attacked by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and flowers equally as fresh. There are four flower arrangements in each corner of the room, made tall and proud as if they’ve been put there to protect Anteiku.

Every table holds a vase with a different flower sticking its head over the menu. Like this, Anteiku’s aroma is more homely, yet, as Kaneki’s heart races at the thought of Tsukiyama putting in so much effort for them, he feels a crucial ingredient is missing. That ingredient is in the building next door.

Nishiki, his forehead clear of hard lines, says, “He didn’t want to accept payment.”

Kaneki tugs at his shirt, tries to pull it up to hide his smile. “I figured he wouldn’t.”

 

 

 

**(V)**

Kaneki lies in bed. Nightmares haven’t reached out to him for a week but sleep won’t take him either. He stares at the ceiling and reminds himself that there are only two days left until this is over. For now.

He gets out of bed and starts his PC. In the darkness, the bright screen stings and it takes time to blink the light out of his eyes.

He looks up flowers and their meanings and hopes one of them will say what he doesn’t have words for.

 

 

Kaneki changes his mind three times but ends up in front of Tsukiyama anyway. He thinks it’s not fair how he has to do this alone yet Tsukiyama is surrounded by flowers, his hair tied in a tiny ponytail.

“You seem to have come here with a purpose today, Kaneki-kun.”

Kaneki halts his step and wonders what gave him away.

“I would like a bouquet of Gardenias,” Kaneki finds his voice.

“Ah,” Tsukiyama puts himself to work immediately. “Somebody did their research. Who’s the lucky person?”

“Someone,” Kaneki says. His eyes are on Tsukiyama’s working hands to avoid meeting his eyes. “Or _something_.”

He knows the exact moment Tsukiyama looks at him because he feels his gaze like shivers caressing his spine when he does. He resists meeting Tsukiyama’s eyes until Tsukiyama has finished making the bouquet.

“There you go,” Tsukiyama says and gives it to Kaneki. Kaneki leaves money on the table and takes the bouquet in his hands. The flowers are big and white and they smell like a promise of spring. Tsukiyama doesn’t touch the money.

Kaneki sniffs a flower and closes his eyes to focus on smell only. When he opens his eyes, he’s filled with resolve. He holds the bouquet out for Tsukiyama.

Tsukiyama tilts his head and a lovely strand of his hair falls over his eyes.

“For you,” Kaneki says.

Tsukiyama hesitates, as if Kaneki’s gesture is going against the predetermined course of his day; he takes the bouquet anyway.

“You look surprised,” Kaneki says and it adds blush to his cheeks.

Tsukiyama smells the flowers before he says, “I’ve never been given flowers.”

“Never?”

“I’m not sure I can accept them.”

Kaneki forces a smile. “You don’t have to accept them. I just wanted you to have them.”

Running away is Kaneki’s old friend; he gives in to it.

 

 

 

**(VI)**

There is more white in Kaneki’s hair than on the ground. Snow comes and goes but the ground stays cold and frozen. Kaneki doesn’t bring flowers to his mother’s grave, only incense, and he offers no prayers. There’s a hollow room in his chest and from it echoes emerge; Kaneki ignores them. From a distance, he imagines, one won’t be able to tell who is made of stone – the monument or Kaneki.

He hears footsteps approach him from behind and he doesn’t budge until he’s passed by a lean figure in a black coat. He knows the soft sound Tsukiyama makes when he walks and the warm air that trails behind him.

“I thought forgiveness would make this easier,” words slip out of Kaneki’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Did you forgive?” Tsukiyama asks and lays a flower on the grave.

“I think you already know the answer,” Kaneki says. Kaneki has no allusions as to why Tsukiyama knows where to be and when, but he has an inkling. Perhaps his body language gives him away; his fist clenches and unclenches, skin made raw and red by the harsh air. He says, “About the flowers you gave me—”

“The first flower fed me your nightmares. The second flower I only wanted to see in your hair,” Tsukiyama says and the subtle confession unleashes a flurry in Kaneki’s heart.

“I knew you weren’t—,” Kaneki admits. “I’m not afraid. I—I like knowing you’re here.”

“I told you how people see me— _should_ see me.  You aren’t supposed to get attached to me,” Tsukiyama says and reaches out to stroke Kaneki’s cheek with his fingers. “It works both ways, I guess.”

Kaneki swallows a lump of feelings in his clotting his throat and presses Tsukiyama’s hand to his face. Tsukiyama’s hand is warm but that doesn’t surprise Kaneki anymore. “What now?”

“Now,” Tsukiyama says. “I’m taking you somewhere warm for a cup of coffee.”

_Until next year.  
_

 

 

**(VII)**

The chair next to the flowerpots becomes ‘Kaneki’s chair’. He leaves his book laying on it sometimes and knows it’s safe there. And sometimes, he moves the chair to get the best view of the curve of Tsukiyama’s lips when he finishes a bouquet. He learns to read the tense silence moments before Tsukiyama asks a question that’s been weighing on his mind.

Like this, Kaneki feels exposed, basking in this private garden of Eden that is often threaded upon by customers of all ages and, Kaneki observes, troubles that they needn’t express for Tsukiyama to recognize. He doesn’t mind sharing Tsukiyama. Everyone leaves – Kaneki stays.

“I’ve noticed you don’t put flowers on your mother’s grave,” Tsukiyama says and the statement makes way for a silence Kaneki ponders how to fill.

After a while, “What’s a flower to the dead?”

“No, it’s deeper than that,” Tsukiyama says with a reassuring smile.

“When you give someone flowers, it means you’re knowingly giving them something that won’t last.”

Tsukiyama, unfazed, touches the petal of a single flower and tugs at it but doesn’t tear it out. He says, “So what? Everything dies; even beautiful things. Poe wrote about the death of a beautiful woman as the most poetic thing in the world. You can love and offer beauty despite its mortality.”

Kaneki shrugs. Only now does he realize how much Tsukiyama loves what he does. And hates it too.

“I’m not interested in that life of loneliness.”

“Loneliness is a human condition,” Tsukiyama says. With his eyes cast downward, he looks as if he’s mourning; his eyelashes cloak his eyes and Kaneki knows he’s lost him to some distant memory.

“Not only human,” Kaneki says and hopes this will be enough to pull Tsukiyama back.

It is.

Tsukiyama looks at him, only him.

“I’m surprised, Kaneki-kun. A lot of things between us seem to work both ways.”

Outside, the winter is melting away, gradually losing its sharp edges. Kaneki barely notices. Around Tsukiyama, it’s always spring.

 

 

 

**(VIII)**

Nishiki prolongs Kaneki’s break to 20 minutes and occasionally grins when he thinks Kaneki isn’t looking. Kaneki puts the extra five minutes to good use.

“If I make a flower crown, can you make it levitate over your head?” Kaneki asks. His eyes browse through the array of flowers, too afraid to touch. Tsukiyama is next to him, chuckling.

“I’m not a magician,” Tsukiyama says.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I wonder,” Tsukiyama leans in and rests his hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. Kaneki feels the warmth of Tsukiyama’s hand even after he turns in that night. “Here, take these. If you make me a decent flower crown, I’ll wear it.”

Kaneki, as it turns out, knows very little about flowers and weaving. But he knows about the freshness of Tsukiyama’s breath and how well his hand fits over Kaneki’s when it tries to teach him about patience and precision. He thinks of Tsukiyama’s words. _Most people get what they came here for, even if they didn’t know they wanted it, and only come back when they need more._

He understands why some people need more of a certain thing. He understands why he needs more of Tsukiyama.

 

 

 

**(IX)**

When Kaneki walks in front of the flower shop in the second week of March, he finds it empty. With the greenery and colours gone, the building is crumbling as if it’s aged a hundred years overnight. Kaneki enters the shop to be greeted by the same kind of desolation; gray walls and dirty floors.

Tsukiyama sits on the empty table; legs sprawled in front of him as if he’s basking in the darkness. Even in ruins, he looks holy. Kaneki’s heart finds a new home in his throat and the blood prevents him from talking.

“I must go,” Tsukiyama says. He’s been waiting, Kaneki hopes, even if his coat betrays his intentions. He doesn’t carry a bag.

“Where you are needed?” Kaneki finds his voice, but it’s powerless in its grieving. A part of him knew, the other part embraced the denial.

“Yes,” Tsukiyama says and pushes himself off the table. There’s a hollow echo to his steps as he closes the distance between them; everything reverberates in the emptiness, even silence. Standing taller than Kaneki, Tsukiyama lowers his gaze to meet Kaneki’s.

Kaneki’s wanted to talk to Tsukiyama about trivial matters today as well. He’s made a mental list. He’s wanted to promise he’ll succeed in making the perfect flower crown today, because he knows it’ll make Tsukiyama smile.

Instead, he offers, “Can I kiss you?”

“Ah. I don’t have mistletoe on hand.”

“You don’t need it.”

Just like that, Kaneki raises himself on his tiptoes and touches the base of Tsukiyama’s neck like he’s always wanted to – tender and with enough yearning to pull him gently down for a kiss. Tsukiyama gives in, kisses with soft hesitance until they’re parting for air.  

“Will you come back?” Kaneki asks, voice ridden with the memories of their shared kiss.

“Do you need me to?” Tsukiyama asks. His eyes are glassy, glistening perhaps. Kaneki can’t see.

“I don’t need you to. I want you to,” Kaneki says.

Tsukiyama procures a flower from his sleeve and Kaneki would’ve laughed at the irony if his heart wasn’t busy walking on broken glass. The flower is blue and Tsukiyama gently tucks the hair behind Kaneki’s ear before he places the flower there.A finishing touch is a kiss on Kaneki’s forehead; Kaneki trembles, on the verge of tears.

“For sweet dreams,” Tsukiyama says.  “It’s been a long winter, Kaneki-kun.”

“The shortest I’ve ever had.”

“Goodbye.”

Tsukiyama Shuu walks out and takes the defiant sun with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**(WINTER, a year later)**

The flower shop springs from the snow overnight, fresh greenery standing defiant against harsh winter. Kaneki _still_ doesn’t think it possible but he stands in front of its glass windows and vibrant array of flower arrangements, and his heart warms. He enters.

Outside, it’s red ears, chapped lips and involuntary shivering, but inside it’s spring in full bloom, first sunshine after months of fog and warmth that seeps into one’s bones and stays.

Tsukiyama sits at the table with his chin resting in the palm of his hand. His  fringe covers one of his eyes, the other is keen, dark and on Kaneki. In his hand he holds a fresh blue gentian. Kaneki approaches the table and tilts his head towards him.  

“Welcome back,” he says and his smile is so warm with fondness it could set the whole world on fire.

Tsukiyama tucks the flower behind Kaneki’s ear, strokes his cheek while he does so. “I’m back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may have a thing for Tsukiyama being a supernatural creature. HIs role is inspired by Baku - a spirit that eats nightmares.  
> [Here](http://www.fromyouflowers.com/flower-resource/meaning-of-flowers.htm) is the site that helped me with flower meanings, if you're curious. The one Kaneki was given means ' _Sweet be thy dreams_ '. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
